


Blueshift

by Delphinapterus



Category: Bandom, Black Cards
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, Space Pirates, bandgirlsbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphinapterus/pseuds/Delphinapterus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bebe needs to get her ship off the dock and to do that she needs a patcher. When one shows up looking to charter a ship, Bebe jumps at the opportunity. When the patcher reveals his true intentions what should have been a routine run turns into a rescue mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blueshift

**Author's Note:**

> A detailed warning including spoilers can be found in the end notes.
> 
> This is based off the world created in Steve Perry's _Matador_ series but no knowledge of the series is required.
> 
>  **Fanart:**  
> ["Leaving Talis IV"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/292008) by [omens](/users/omens/pseuds/omens).
> 
>  **Fanmix:**  
> [Explosions in the sky](http://delphinapterus.livejournal.com/131409.html) by oh_whoa_oh

Death came for Hamilton Walker from a ring worn by the red-haired courtesan he was about to enjoy. Reclining against a mound of pillows he neither saw nor heard as the girl flipped open the heavy jewel of the ring and shook fine yellow powder into the drink she was mixing for him. A careful man might have noticed she took slightly longer than normal to mix the drink but if Hamilton Walker noticed he assumed it was because his refined taste meant the girl, expensive and sought after as she might be, had yet to run across a patron who ordered a Dark World Reverse Sunshine. She smiled at him with lips painted turquoise blue and handed him the chilled glass. He sipped slowly and allowed himself to toy with her nipple. When he clamped his fingers down hard, digging his nails into the sensitive flesh, she whimpered charmingly but was too well trained to pull away. As guest-gifts went she really was exquisite. He wondered if his host would be interested in selling her. Perhaps to sweeten the deal to let their operations on Grundy peacefully co-exist he’d keep the price low. Although, Walker had to admit the freshly transferred credits said he was getting the better end of the deal. The girl smiled at him, shifting so she could straddle his lap.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked with the barest nod to the glass.

“Very nice,” he said and sipped again. His fingers tugged at her nipple.

Hamilton Walker dies six hours later of apparent heart-failure. His body is cremated and no tox-screen is requested or performed. Even if there had been none of the drug would have shown on a standard tox-screen. His former host was sipping a Dark World Reverse Sunshine with the red-haired courtesan sitting at his feet when he heard the news. The warmth of accomplishment didn’t show on her features as she listened to her owner call for his Right Hand so they could deal with the damage to their operation. She mixed her owner a bracing drink. This time the ring stayed closed.

>  _In accordance with the reclassification all ships class III or higher must have at least one (1) crew member with PATCH capabilities with Pan-galactic Spacing Networks (PSN). For ships class II or lowers see 3.4.60._
> 
>  _-Confederation Galactic Standard Shipping Regulations_

Talis IV isn't a hub. It's a few parsecs off one of the sub-route hubs which puts it in an ideal location for a grey area. The legal space traffic flows through Talis IV alongside the stirctly black market privateers. People disappear on Talis IV.

Through one of the windows she can watch the flexible docking tube snaking out to attach to an old model class II ramjet. Light catches a tell-tale blackened section of the ion scoop and Bebe wonders if she can get some side-work fixing it. She makes a mental note to check the manifests after her shift.

It's the beginning of the down cycle so the bar is slowly starting to fill with patrons. It's mostly spacers, the Confeds' agents usually come in the up cycle, except for the four in the bar's far corner hunched over a table. Their skin is the standard grey cast that is a side of affect of the sub-Lojt modifications. Bebe moves far enough away that she won't pick up their conversation unless she deliberately bumps the settings on her hearing imp, instead she refills the containers of synth fruits that mimic traditional old Earth fruit and watches the sub-Lojts out of the corner of her eye just in case. At least one is from Mue stock which makes him all the more dangerous.

She shifts left to avoid the grabbing hands of a spacer with hair done in a traditional belter crest and motions one of the two serving droids over to see to her. Glancing back to the sub-Lojts she sees the privacy shield has been engaged cloaking them from view. A thin shadow lashes back and forth telling her one of the sub-Lojts is irritated. She hopes they sort things out peacefully. Being caught in a sub-Lojt fight is not something she wants to experience again. She stays behind the bar, trying to be unobtrusive about monitoring the table, while directing the serving droids on the floor.

* * *

The ship with the malfing ion-scoop has been moved from the main docking bay into one of the smaller, less expensive storage bays by the time Bebe gets time to look up the manifests which list it as _Orion_. The presumptuous name makes her pause but she isn't going to get the credits to find a patcher and get back by not trying everything.

Her own ship is waiting for her two bays down and she can't help making a quick stop just to check on it before continuing on to _Orion_. She flicks the comm button and waits for acknowledgement. Up close the ship is in better shape than she expected. Instead of using the comm the panel slides back to reveal a man with a neutral expression. His stature gives him away as a Jinx native but it's the creasing around his eyes that gives him away as an old spacer.

"Yo?" It's a neutral greeting which is as good as she could have expected.

"Hey, I'm Bebe," she says holding out her hand.

"Arn," he says as he shakes her hand. His grip is just firm enough to serve as a warning of his full strength.

"I saw your ship docking. Your scoop is looking pretty black, ya?"

"Anyone with eyes can see that. Fuckin' thing last leg and it starts flicking."

"I know a thing or two about scoops."

"And you're just offerin' your services?"

Bebe smiles, "I'm good and I won't break you like the Confed Port fixers will."

"Just how good?" he asks and Bebe knows she'll get the job.

* * *

Bebe hears the shuffle of boots before she sees feet.

“Hand me that 3/8ths driver?” she asks, waving a hand out from the crawl space she’s wriggled into to get at a panel of circuit boards. The driver is placed gently into her hand and she pulls it back, stretching to reach the screw that’s over her head. The bit of the driver skids and bounces making her swear. She really doesn’t want to deal with a melted screw but it looks like she’s out of luck. She starts to crawl back out when hands grab her ankles and a male voice says “here, let me.”

She yelps as they drag her back quickly. She tumbles out of the access space and just manages to catch herself.

Bebe glares at her would-be helper. His almost golden-brown tan and the lines around his eyes mark him as a Spacer but the thick dark beard shot through with grey says he hasn’t seen space in a long time. He holds up both hands and smiles. Bebe waits. His eyes are a warm brown.

“I heard you’ve got a class three ship,” he says in perfect Standard. He doesn’t have an accent to it like so many people who never quite left their native languages behind even though Standard is what the Confed runs on – at least in theory. Bebe has met Confed boarder guards who don’t speak Standard except through the translator pick-ups on their uniforms. The lack of accent makes her think he might be a wheel-worlder but he doesn’t have quite the right look about him for one of the wheel-worlder dwellers.

“I do,” she says cautiously.

He bounces on his toes, “it happens that I need to charter such a ship.”

Bebe picks up her rag and wipes her hands, “and you want to charter my ship.”

“I figure we could help each other out, you need a patcher and I need a ship.”

Now that she knows to look for it she can just see the faint hint of synth-derm over where a patcher's skin should be pale from of exposure.

Bebe frowns, “how does that help me out?”

“I know what docking fees are on Talis and there’s no way you’re going to want to keep paying them any longer than you have to. If you do this run for me, I’ll stay along and work one run for you afterwards.”

He’s right about the fees. The longer she stays the harder it will be for her to afford a good patcher and the port fees to leave unless she gets a job offer and even the shitty ones are hard to find without the right contacts on this backward wheel-world she's stuck on. She knows the guy has to have researched her before making the offer which makes her nervous even if she knows that any potential client would do the same.

“How do I know you won’t just skip on me afterwards?”

He shrugs, “I guess you wouldn’t take my word?”

“I don’t know who you are.” Bebe points out.

“I’m Jason Delacourte,” he says sticking his hand out. His grip is surprisingly strong and she catches a glimpse of black ink peaking out from underneath the edge of his cuff.

“Bebe and your name still doesn’t give me any reason to take your word.”

“I could pay you,” he says after a pause, as if he’s used to gettin recognized by name alone, he looks at her hopefully.

“If you can pay why would you offer to work as my patcher?” she asks suspiciously.

Jason doesn’t do anything obvious like glance away but even so Bebe gets the feeling he doesn’t like having to say anything, “my funds are tied up at the moment but once they’re free I can pay you. I’ll triple your usual fee.”

“Do I look like I was born last cycle?” she asks exasperation making her sharper than she intends.

He runs a hand over his face looking suddenly tired, “look I can’t … I don’t have any way to prove I’m not lying about it.”

“Tell me what you want to do if I agree.”

“I need to go to Grundy.”

Bebe forces herself not to react. Grundy is one of the abandoned planets, early exploration and failed terra forming leaving it a barren desert, there’s nothing on it since the Confed abandoned its attempt to turn it into a prison planet. It should be relatively safe. According to rumor and official records piracy through the quadrant has dropped to practically nothing since the Confed failed. Bebe rocks on her heels considering her options. It feels almost too good to be true. She wonders what kind of scam he’s trying to run on her.

Jason is watching her closely, almost as if he can read her thoughts, when he suddenly jambs a hand in his pocket and pulls it out in a closed fist.

“I can give you 800 hundred now,” he says showing her the chip resting in his palm, “as security.”

Bebe picks up the dark carbon chip and holds it up to examine it closely. If he really has researched her he knows the chip is worth just enough to get her ship outfitted and through the port. It looks real and she weighs it thoughtfully. He has to be holding something back if he’s this desperate to get to Grundy. She hands the chip back to him.

“You’re not on the run are you?”

He laughs, “nobody’s looking for me.”

“And you really want to go to Grundy? Why?”

“My friend, he’s really into desert planets, and he went to Grundy to just look into what’s living down there,” his mouth twists into a semi-smile, “he asked me to go but I said no, not after the time he dragged me to study the swamp-things on Parle II. Except nobody’s heard from him and I’m worried. I need… I have to make sure he’s okay. He’s probably going to yell at me for interrupting him watching like sand-worms or some shit but I have to know.”

Bebe is almost positive he’s conning her because the absent minded xenobiologist is such a staple of vid-dramas but there’s something about the way that his hands are clenched around the credit chip that stops her from saying that. Even if he is conning her, he can get her off Talis IV.

“Fine,” she says holding out her hand palm facing upwards, “you’ve got a deal.”

He grins wide and slaps his palm down over hers, “when can we leave?”

Bebe thinks about things she needs to get together and the work she has left to do for Arn on the ion scoop. “four cycles, when can you be ready?”

“I was born ready,” Jason says with a lop-sided grin as he flips her the credit chip.

* * *

The ship was called _Nightingale_ when she got it and Bebe has never changed the name. The triple thrust hyperdrive taking up most of the space in the engine room is what pushed her into a class III when the new regs were handed down and sometimes Bebe wishes that the previous owners hadn’t felt such a need for speed even though she has to admit that it gives her an edge.

Bebe is just filing their final notice of departure when Jason arrives at the dock. He waits for her permission to board just like the first time she took him to the ship to familiarize him with everything. He plops into the patcher station beside her right hand and flips open the controls. It’s the first time Bebe has seen him wearing a patch. His is a dull black that matches his orthoskins and fits snuggly over his left eye. The edge glows faintly green where the light from the display leaks out. All the patchers she’s seen have decorated their patches. But then the patchers she knew couldn’t have casually thrown around the kind of credits that Jason had offered her. The quick background research she’d pull up for him hadn’t said anything about family connections just listed him as a partner in an import/export business on the far side of the system. Profitable but she doesn’t think it would be profitable enough to allow him to fling around that much credit. But she knows his credits are good and that’s what counts if she ever wants to get off Talis IV.

“You’ve done this before, right?”

He touches his blank patch with the tip of his middle finger, “yeah.”

She nods and watches closely as he interfaces his patch with her ship. The ease at which he taps in is more reassuring than a thousand of his declarations and she feels her stomach unclench. She checks her own displays and smiles. Control is letting them go early.

“Ready. Mark in ten.”

Jason nods and leans back in his chair. Bebe toggles the first thruster set open and begins the sequence to take off from Talis IV. She makes a silent promise to herself to never stay on Talis again as she sets the last thruster sequence.

"Authorization code," the Confed operator demands, voice cool and even in the comm.

It is an order not a question. Bebe has seen what happens if a pilot screws up on this part. The antiship imploders the wheel-world ports mount would destroy one of the huge transpo barges within seconds. _Nightingale_ would barely register for them. Either way ship and crew would both be gone.

Bebe can hear the click of the countdown for the code in her ear as she gives the code, slow and clear, even as she sends it manually to the port operator handling _Nightingale_. Beside her Jason taps his fingers against his leg.

"You are cleared for sling out, _Nightingale_ ," the control says.

"Copy, I'm locked in sling," Bebe replies and nods at Jason to let him know they're about to move.

"Stand by, and five seconds to commence... four..."

Jason exhales as the sling acceleration presses them both back into the chairs. Bebe fits her hands to the controls and waits for her ship to clear the boundary marker. She can't wait to be at the controls again.

* * *

Talis IV is lost behind them in the inky black of space when Jason finally rolls from his chair. The eye not hidden by the patch is blood-shot. Bebe wonders again just how long ago his last route job was.

“You mind if I clean up?” he asks and she shakes her head. She watches him stagger out of the cockpit before calling up the news database she’s been putting off reading since she got the job with Arn back on Tarus. It’s what she was expecting; up-dates on colonies, changes of government ministers on the various planets, and new exploratory missions. Buried toward the back is an article on the yet another committee looking into redrafting the debt-slave regulations which makes her snort. She can’t remember a time when there wasn’t a committee talking about redrafting it. It’s a constant just like the fact that Rabbit Hole will always have best vice providers after Vishnu. She flips past without reading the article until she gets to the _Traders’ Notes_ section. She reads it carefully looking for information on where the best places to pick up another job will be after she’s taken Jason to Grundy to find his xenobiologist friend. Grundy is so low traffic the _Notes_ section doesn’t even bother mentioning it which Bebe finds comforting.

Her stomach is growling by the time she finishes and she gets out of her pilot chair, after double-checking the autopilot, with a wince. She isn’t used to pilot position after being on Talis for so long but the ache in her muscles is a welcome reminder she is back to her rightful place. She lifts a floor panel and pushes the catch to bring up the secondary weapons locker. It’s the first time she’s opened it since she prepared to dock at Talis and the air inside has the familiar tang of long-stored plasma weapons. Her poniard is on the top and she buckles the sheath around her hips with ease. She checks the display in the handle, satisfied with the readout, before she pulls the blade to inspect it. Resettling it against her hip she finally feels completely comfortable.

She surprises Jason in the galley poking through the storage bins. He whirls when she clears her throat but shrugs when he realizes it is just her. He doesn’t offer any explanation on who he was expecting instead saying, “I’ve never seen somebody pack things this tight in a galley before.”

“It’s a skill,” she says dryly, “were you looking for something?”

He shrugs, “does the Captain want to eat?”

* * *

“You’ve never run with patchers have you?” Jason asks as they are slowly eating their way through their reconstituted down-cycle meal.

Bebe shrugs, “I did at the beginning but it was easier to run everything myself with the processors.”

“More profitable too,” Jason says shrewdly.

Bebe inclines her head but doesn’t say anything. If Jason knows that much then the point is rhetorical. If he’s fishing she doesn’t have any reason to confirm it. “Why do you ask?”

“All the settings are at default and the pins still feel almost virgin,” he says with a glance that makes it obvious he’s looking for a reaction but continues smoothly when she doesn’t react as he’s hoping, “it’s obvious you’re using a sor to do everything.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Technically? No. A patcher would have put in bypasses, cuts, things to make your systems run a little better, that sort of stuff. I know a guy who used to do mod work on the class I and II ships who didn’t carry patchers, it was pretty popular.”

“Let me guess, I could hire you to do it for me?” Bebe wonders if he’ll use it to get out of doing a run for her.

“If you wanted,” he smiles the wide white smile Bebe has become familiar with even from the short cycles they’ve been together, “I wouldn’t even charge you.”

“Generous of you.”

“I’m a generous guy,” he says.

“How did you end up on Talis IV?” Bebe asks.

Jason pops a protein cube in his mouth and chews before saying, “hitched a ride on a fast courier.”

Bebe chokes and swallows hard, “those are single ships, you can’t hitch on them.”

Jason’s mouth twists in a parody of a grin, “didn’t say it was comfortable.”

“Everybody knows they aren’t built to support more than one person, if you don’t want to say just tell me,” she snaps. It irritates and worries her that he’d try such an obvious lie to her face.

Jason shrugs and tosses a protein cube up to snap it out of the air. It’s a trick that’s harder than it looks to master which makes Bebe increase her estimate of how long he’s spent on a ship. “If it’s a short enough trip and things are tweaked a little two people can ride a courier.”

“That can’t have been pleasant.”

He shrugs, “someday it’ll make a good story.”

She waits but he doesn’t elaborate so she says, “why is your xenobiologist friend into desert planets when the riches aren’t usually found on them?”

“It’s not about that for him, he likes the discovery part.”

“Has he discovered anything then?”

“Not yet, but he will.” Jason stares at her steadily as though he’s willing her to believe in his friend she’s never met.

Bebe nods and doesn’t press the subject.

* * *

“Can I?” Jason asks with a nod at the dial.

Bebe shrugs. It is set to her usual entertainment channel but she’s curious to find out what Jason wants to see.

Jason switches the holoproj unit in the galley to the Confed broadcasts; he has to put the number in manually since she doesn’t have it in the pre-sets. Bebe suppresses a sigh. It might be one of the only channels always available but she rarely bothers with it. Anything she needs will come through the patcher nets so the only thing the channel offers are overviews of things she doesn’t care about. She says as much when Jason asks why the Confed channel wasn’t in the pre-sets.

“But don’t you want to know what the Confed is doing?” he asks sounding genuinely perplexed.

Bebe looks at him carefully and settles for the neutral, “doesn’t everybody?”

Jason shifts and turns back to the screen. His shoulders are a straight line and Bebe shifts her focus to the holoproj. She wants to know what he finds so interesting. The voice over is done by a woman instead of sex neutral voice that Bebe is accustomed to hearing. She shifts slightly to get a better view of the screen.

>   
> _On the planet Fox in the Pigme system there had been a small group who disagreed with the increased export/import taxes imposed by the Confederation on certain goods especially when it was placed on one of Fox’s primary exports. After an unsuccessful petition to have the tax lifted, the group had decided to simply stop paying it which the Confederation could not accept. The group would have to be made an example of for every Confederation citizen to see._   
> 

Bebe can feel a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. It is common knowledge that the Confed is harsh justice but as she listens to the smooth voiced woman recounting the transgressions of the group she feels her anger building. Taxes and tithes are the everyday reality of the Confed but as a Spacer Bebe has run around a fair number of them that seem to be nothing but a grab for money. She can sympathize with the citizens in the broadcast who claimed they wouldn’t be able to afford to export their goods with the increased imposed by the Confed. Yet instead of accepting the Confed’s greater wisdom and its authority they had betrayed it. Turned against the Confed even though the appeal process had clearly shown how important the increased tax was for the Confed.

“Instead of using their ingenuity to find a way to produce their product cheaper or to make something new and better they choose instead of ignore the tax laws of the Confederation. They even threatened a collector with violence,” the woman says sounding horrified at the idea that anyone had done that to a collector.

Bebe suppresses a snort. The collectors she has dealt with have all been uniformly officious and petty. Jason shifts but doesn’t look away from the holoproj. Bebe wonders if he knew what was going to be broadcast when he tuned the unit into the Confed channel.

The image is crisp and steady as the dissenting citizens are rounded up by Confed troops. The troops are not gentle, Bebe watches in horror as one soldier smashes a carbine butt into a man’s face so that blood spurts from his nose and mouth. He stumbles forward and spits out a tooth then the camera zooms in on the bloody tooth just long enough for a trooper’s boot to crush it. The camera pulls back to show the rest of the group herded into a courtyard at their main factory. Boots are driven into stomachs and groins, elbows into noses, and weapons batter heads. The violence is all caught in exquisite detail, particularly gruesome scenes are slowed so that the audience can see the way the blood arcs behind the path of the weapons. Between rough ports and backstreet bars, Bebe is no stranger to violence but this is senseless. To do this to people over a tax. The overreaction shocks her.

The camera pulls back to a Confed dreadnought hovering in space. It’s large and the voiceover tells her it carries the latest laser weaponry. There’s a beat. The dreadnought against the black of space, a bright sleek jewel in all the darkness, then the camera slides downward toward the factory again. A red mist billows up where the people were just standing. It blooms toward the camera as the lasers keep working. Obliterating the factory until it’s nothing but crater.

“How could they?” bursts from her before she can stop herself.

Jason shrugs, his lips are pulls tight, “it’s the way the Confed keeps itself in power, keeps everyone scared.”

“They can’t, it can’t happen often,” Bebe says as the camera lingers lovingly on the way the light catches the laser-glass lining the crater.

“Once a year or so,” Jason says somberly, “as often as the Confed needs to make an example."

“All those people,” Bebe swallows convulsively.

“Welcome to the Confed,” Jason says and his grin looks just a little cruel.

* * *

Jason always keeps the holoproj tuned to the Confed channel. Bebe wants to object, wants to turn back to the entertainment channel with its flamboyant projstars and excitingly eccentric musicians but she feels compelled to watch the Confed broadcasts just in case they make another example. She owes it to those people dying on the screen to witness their fate. She isn’t a stranger to violence; the poniard that rests on her hip is a testament to that, but its violence is personal not the coldly indifferent violence of the Confed. Privately, she’ll admit to herself that it bothers her that she has been so ill formed about the Confed even though she’s sailed in and out of hundreds of Confed ports over the years.

* * *

The patch over Jason's eye is flaring brightly, the colors shifting between blues and reds, as he works. Bebe knows just enough about patching to tell that he’s hooked into external streams and not just running off the ship’s on-board. Other than the occasional twitching of his fingers Jason’s body is relaxed back into the crash couch as if he was sleeping. Bebe is watching the star field but she keeps sneaking glances over at Jason. It’s weird having another person with her on the bridge instead of just the familiar hum of the drives and bots. Adding to that weirdness is his patch which is a new and unfamiliar spot of color in her peripheral vision. It’s not as distracting as when their voyage first began but she still finds herself getting caught by unfamiliar movement and colors in her familiar space. It feels strange not to be alone on the ship with only the faint hum of the drives for company. Her body has finally re-adjusted to pilot position and she knows that it will soon integrate having a patcher on the bridge as well. She just has to be patient. In the meantime she glances over again just to watch the play of lights across the surface of the patch and the heads of the datasticks poking up from it. The patch’s lights mute as Jason sits up, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and stretches.

“We need to go to Nazo.”

Bebe lets her feet slide off the foot rest to thunk onto the floor, “that wasn’t our agreement.”

“I’m changing it.”

“Like hell you are,” Bebe snaps. She forces her hand to remain still instead of slipping toward the poniard at her hip.

“It’s important.”

“If you want to try renegotiating that’s possible but we have a contract and I won’t sit by and let you or anyone else just break a contract with me.”

Jason sighs, “I was supposed to rendezvous with somebody on Grundy but they’re going to be unavoidably delayed so I need you to take me to Nazo to get a back up.”

“You need back up to go to Grundy to look for your missing xenobiologist?” Bebe asks lacing her voice with as much scepticism as she can.

“Yeah, never know what I might find,” Jason says with a shrug that’s too nonchalant for Bebe to believe.

“Look, it’s another four cycles just to get to Nazo from here, that’s more than a minor deviation from our original agreement,” Bebe holds up a confounder and makes sure Jason sees it engage, “We both know that your story isn’t the reason you’re going to Grundy, I think it’s time you showed your hand.”

Jason is still, body loose and relaxed, but he doesn’t immediately deny her claim. It makes Bebe think better of him. She stares back, listening to the hum of the ship, and watching his face. Even with all the practice she gets in the bars and contract work she finds herself struggling to see past the easy relaxation he’s presenting. It reminds her of a professional sharper she’d seen once. Her stomach is knotted with tension as she waits to see if she’s guessed right by forcing Jason’s hand.

“Alright,” he says at long last, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Bebe feels a surge of relief that she gambled right and makes a small encouraging “go on” hand gesture. Jason looks at her confounder for so long she offers it to him. It’s mid-range but quality enough that anyone wanting a quick look won’t bother. He twirls it in his fingers, checking read-out(s?) and watching the display lights dance, before setting it down. Whatever he was looking for he obviously found it.

“What do you know about slaves?” he asks, voice still quiet but louder than before.

“It’s illegal,” Bebe says flatly, she’s heard rumors of slavers, every laner knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who got a job that turned out to be for a slaver.

“Yeah, well, it’s profitable but high risk because the Confed, as corrupt as they are, still enforces the anti-slavery laws,” he pauses and Bebe waits hoping that he isn’t about to start trying to sell her on getting into the business, “but it’s not a priority, it’s not something they’re actively searching for, and things get missed if the wrong people are looking.”

“So what’s this to you?” Bebe asks unable to keep quiet and wanting firm confirmation that Jason isn’t a slaver.

“I pick up the slack,” he says with a twisted smile, “there’s slavers on Grundy and the Confed isn’t going to get to them for too long so either they keep going or somebody else shuts them down.”

“You’re not Kerri Cheri,” Bebe says naming one of the big action vid stars. “How can one person do that?”

“That’s why I need to get to Nazo, to get back-up.”

“Is your back-up a platoon? This ship isn’t designed for that many people.”

He shakes his head and hurries on before she can ask another question, “slavers, they’re cowards mostly, it’s easier for them to cut and run than try to protect a base and the slaves are expendable, they can always get more,” he explains.

“How can it be that easy to steal more people?”

“People will sell other people to the slavers to make credits; parents sell kids, jailors sell prisoners, there’s lots of ways for a clever slaver to find slaves, so why bother defending the ones they’ve got unless they’ve got somebody rare? It’s good business for them to cut and run. We go in, make it too uncomfortable for them to stay and pull the slaves out before they can get back.”

“You don’t go after the slavers?” Bebe asks in disbelief, how can they not go after the cause of the problem?

Jason shrugs, “we do sometimes but our priority has to be saving the people, sometimes they’ll rig the place to blow so we have to be fast.”

The way his voice goes flat makes Bebe wonder if they learned that through unpleasant experience.

“Are you planning to get the slaves off Grundy in my ship?” Bebe demands.

“A-a source says they’ve got transport at their base, we’ll get most of them out on those. I know the capacity your ship rates at, don’t worry Cap’tain,” Jason says her title disdainfully.

“The cause doesn’t change the specs,” she snaps stung.

Jason inclines his head, a silent acknowledgement of her point, but only says, “we’ve done this before, we know what we’re doing.”

“You said a source, does that mean something more than third hand information?”

“It’s solid.”

“Which doesn’t answer my question.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Jason asks suspicion so obvious in his words that even if Bebe hadn’t been paying attention to the way the muscles around his mouth tightened she would have heard it.

“I’m risking my ship, maybe my life, doing this for you, I want to be sure of everything.

“You don’t have to do it, just get me to Nazo and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

“I’ll be blunt, I agreed to this because I need a patcher to legally sail this ship and you know that. I don’t want to be stuck on Nazo waiting to find another patcher willing to work on spec,” Jason opens his mouth and Bebe hurries on, “ and just because I’ve never done it, doesn’t mean I don’t want to help with your, um, thing. Just, until now I didn’t even realize this sort of rescue group even existed, and I’d like to help but jumping blind makes me nervous.”

The silence between them grows more oppressive as Jason watches her. Bebe finally blurts out, “look if I was really a slaver wouldn’t you know? Besides, you’ve probably already had the time to look me up.”

Jason laughs and the awkward tension between them snaps, “yeah, alright, if you’re going to be in this then you’d better call me Pete.”

“That’s a heck of an Ident cube if your name is Pete,” she says thinking about how his cube had run through the Confed so easily.

He shrugs one shoulder, “this isn’t our first time.”

“So Pete, what am I getting into?”

“Grundy is a slaver base, we liberate slaves,” he says easy as if he’s suggesting they find an Albino on the Dark World.

“Specifics.”

“It’s safer if nobody knows too much. We need to get Ash on Nazo, then I’ll tell you more. I promise this is one of the safest jobs we’ve set out to do.”

“Has anyone died doing this?”

Jason, no Pete, pauses for a long second before he replies, “yeah, we’ve lost people, the slavers have lost people. This isn’t some glory lark fuelled by old vid dramas, we – I know what it’s like to lose somebody because of what we do.”

She feels relieved by his answer. The way he hesitates when he answered makes her think that he’s telling the truth. That people have died makes it feel more real to her and makes her more willing to trust him.

“I’m in,” she says shaking hands with Pete.

* * *

Nazo’s primary export is dencris and the manufacturing process gives the air a sharp chemical reek. Bebe has never been to it before but the port could be a clone of the one on any of a dozen different worlds. The Confed agent who checks them through doesn’t blink at Pete’s Ident cube which still gives his name as Jason which makes Bebe relax. It’s an old enough cube that a lifted one would have been in the system by now which tells her that Pete’s Ident cube is a custom job by somebody good enough to add and scramble the Confed ident system; it’s a patcher job most patchers wouldn’t touch.

Outside the port buildings the chemical smell is sharp enough to make her eyes water. The locals go about without apparent protection and she stands, blinking, for a second just hoping to get her senses acclimatized. Pete rocks on his heels, waiting impatiently beside her but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the smell which makes her wonder if he’s been to Nazo before. She noticed a lot of heavy-worlders in the port but she didn’t connect their presence with Nazo being a Hi-G world until she starts following Pete and realizes how much more she needs to work to keep up with him. She figures Nazo is probably 2-Gs above standard from the way the muscles in her thighs and quads are straining. Pete would know since he’s probably already tapped into the local webs but she doesn’t bother asking why he didn’t mention anything.

Just outside the gates that mark the official beginning of the port’s boundaries Pete hails one of the two-seater passenger hover bikes. The driver is a girl with close-cropped hair, skin burned brown by the sun, and a heavy-worlder’s thick muscles. She looks much older than Bebe suspects she is. Pete tries what Bebe assumes is the local dialect but the girl frowns at him and replies in lightly accented standard. Pete looks chagrined as he switches to standard as well. Bebe lets Pete negotiate their ride as she runs a critical eye over their potential transport. It’s clearly well maintained but old. It’s better than some of the grey-area transports she’s seen and worse than others. On the back a painted starship flies past a nebula. The detailing on the starship impresses her more than the careful coloring on the nebula. Whoever did it obviously knew the specs for the Python Z24JX; she wonders if the girl did it.

The girl smiles wide at Pete and holds out her hand for a credit chit. He makes it appear in the air with what Bebe recognizes as old Earth sleight of hand. The girl laughs and opens the rope for them to get in. The seat is narrow and she ends up pressed hip to knee against Pete. His body heat seeps through her orthoskins making her want to pull back even though she knows there is no room to do so. As soon as they’re settled the girl flips the bike out of standby and cuts into the steady flow of traffic out of the port.

The address Pete gave their driver turns out to be a bright colored rec-chem pub. Pete makes the other half of their fare appear from thin air much to the delight of the girl. For a second, when she smiles wide, she looks young. The other half of the fare is unusually large and Bebe suspects that the going rate for transport on Nazo isn’t actually as high as their fare would make it. It makes her think better for him even though it makes her wonder just how many hard credits he really is travelling with. The pub is busy enough to have a bouncer stationed just inside the awning and Bebe catches the approving way he watches Pete interact with their driver before he looks down the street. Pete steps closer to her and mutters, “follow my lead.”

He doesn’t bother turning to see if she’s going to follow as he steps forward and Bebe wonders if her curiosity to find out what’s happening is really that easy for Pete to read. Pete nods to the bouncer who nods back and lets them pass without question. The inside is typical of a rec-chem pub with privacy booths, open tables, a flat main bar with two tenders, and a few busy servers gliding between all of them. Pete doesn’t pause to scan the room instead threading his way confidently through the maze of tables and booths until he gets to a privacy booth midway down the room. He slides into the booth and Bebe follows him trying to make it appear as though she is as confident as Pete that they’re meeting whoever is tucked into the back of the booth.

Bebe is expecting to see Pete’s back-up for his rescue plan so she’s surprised to find a slight woman with close cropped blonde-hair waiting for them. She and Pete exchange quick kisses on each cheek. It’s a greeting style that Bebe hasn’t seen outside the vids set on the reach worlds of the Sol system. She wonders if she’s expected to greet the woman the same way or if there’s some other etiquette for it. The Sol system is known for its traditions but Bebe can’t think of a single vid that would translate well to meeting an accomplice to a semi-illegal breaking up of an illegal slave ring. The vids seem woefully limited. With Pete between them does she lean over him or behind him to kiss the woman’s cheek? This is exactly why she likes picking up business contracts over the webs – it’s much simpler.

“Ash, meet Ship's Captain Rexha,” Pete tells the woman who smiles and holds out her hand stopping Bebe’s etiquette confusion.

“Call me Bebe,” she says, shaking hands with Ash whose grip is surprisingly firm.

“You’re the newest recruit,” Ash says but her smile takes the sting out of the words.

“You could call me that.”

“She totally is,” Pete interjects and Ash rolls her eyes as if she’s accustomed to his interruptions. Pete just settles more comfortably into the booth which also makes it so he's sitting closer to Ash. It makes Bebe readjust her guess on how long they’ve known each other. Ash flicks the privacy shield and it blinks into place around the booth with a faint hum. She shifts just enough that they can both see the flat pack confounder clipped to her belt.

“I thought it was born on Monday for you?” Ash says, her smile melting away. _Why are you here?”_ lingers unspoken in the air.

Pete shrugs, “I need a hand.”

Ash frowns, “what happened to _make you need me_?”

“You’re the best I know.”

“Right,” she says in a way that lets Pete know she isn’t buying his flattery.

“The Academy is having a personnel problem, they couldn’t spare anyone and the Blue and Yellow crew was supposed to be coming from Rim to help.”

“So the little Ferret really did get pinched,” Ash says sounding surprised.

“They’ll get him back but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“You sure there’s no sneaky peakers inside?”

“Sweeped and shaken to the core, if they’re inside we didn’t find ‘em and once we get the Handsome Duke back he’ll do another run but the Ivy twins didn’t find anything and you know they’re good.”

“The Duke was supposed to be with you,” Ash says sounding worried.

“Er, yeah, we had a tweet and it was too good to pass up so the Duke and Panda are both with the Karis slavers' men and I have to get them out before too many eyes get too curious. Panda says they might be having the twitches over the Duke. I told Panda about the Ivy twins but that didn’t help with the problem. They might have a patcher getting lucky for them. I don’t know yet.”

“Jesu Christo, both of them. Why didn’t you tell me?"

She doesn't say _sooner_ but Bebe can almost hear it hanging reproachfully unspoken.

Pete frowns, “I didn’t want to bother you on break if it wasn’t needed.”

“I’ll always come, you know that.” Ash says gently and Bebe wonders yet again just what kind of relationship Pete has with Ash and the two people who are behind the code-names.

“You’ll help.” Pete says sounding sure of himself.

“You know I will.” Ash says and Pete smiles as if he was worried.

“How much time do you count?” Ash asks, brisk and business-like. It’s obvious this isn’t the first time she’s been involved with something like this which makes Bebe feel more secure in her decision to trust Pete enough to follow him into his rescue.

“I don’t know, Panda can probably get them out if things get too bad but rumor says at least one of them likes to practice Konta punishment for fun so I don’t want to rely on that, not when Panda is playing doxy.”

Ash inhales sharply, “Panda is doing what?”

Pete glances at Bebe as he replies, “only a personal for the Chief’s Chief. It’s worth it for the leads.”

The muscles in Ash’s neck and jaw are stiff with tension that Bebe knows from experience almost always signals anger. Pete has a stubborn set to his shoulders. Her skin goes clammy as she realizes that when Pete said the Konta punishment he meant the Konta Compound where the most common method of punishment was for the offender to have every strand of body hair pulled out individually. Its practitioners like to tout how it becomes excruciatingly painful the longer it goes on. She can still remember the screams of the man who was having it done to him in the vid clip that she’d seen. The thought of anyone enduring that makes her skin crawl.

“If time is critical like Pete says can you continue this once we’re sailing again?” Bebe asks breaking the tension gathering in the booth. Their heads turn in unison to look at her and Bebe forces herself not to react.

“You can yell at me on the ship,” Pete offers.

“Fine, the sooner we’re on the way the better.”

* * *

They’re following Ash down an alley when Bebe realizes that somebody is following them. She watches the man out of the corner of her eye as they turn a corner and wonders if the others notice him. She doubts they know the Laner codes - no matter how far out they are from the Confed they don't have the right polish to have even been close to crawling the lanes. She's about to go for an unsubtle hip bump when Ash pivots without warning.

"I see you," she says to the alley, "I've seen you since I walked out that door. Show yourself."

The man Bebe noticed steps out from a doorway. He bows slightly which isn't the usual beginning to any mugging Bebe has heard of. He is ignoring her and Pete, gaze fixed steadily on Ash as though he is expecting her to vanish.

"I challenge you," he says still watching Ash.

Pete starts to shift toward Ash but she shakes her head and he subsides, standing tensed and ready next to Bebe.

"I don't play that game," Ash tells him and her tone is a gentle reproof like Bebe has heard Mothers scold children with.

The man laughs, "I know well that you play the Flex, someone like you? There's no way you don't. Is it that you're afraid to face your death in my hands?"

His answer ads more confusion. It's a well known fact that the Musashi Flex players didn't go after non-players. It was against the rules. The players knew each other but they kept their game an underground secret, advancing through combat challenges until they retired or died. At least that was what the Spacer gossip said. She'd never met a Flex player to know if it was true. There were three of them, easily enough to overpower him quickly but Ash seemed intent on dealing with him singly.

"Cel, you have persisted in this since I turned down your offer and I tell you again that I do not play." The standard Ash uses with the man is the formal stilted style that Bebe has only heard in the vid dramas except the way it flows it doesn't sound like Ash is mimicking it.

"You know the penalty if you refuse, are you so afraid of me?"

Ash glanced over at Pete and he shifted closer to Bebe. Ash bowed slightly to the man, "since you insist then I accept your challenge here and now, armed?"

"Nah, let's keep it easy, just bare," Cel says with a small smile.

Ash nods and steps forward.

"Shouldn't we help?" Bebe demands.

Pete shakes his head, "Ash'll be fine."

"But he's a _Flex player_."

Pete smirks and says quietly, "yeah, just watch."

Ash waits, standing easy and loose, while Cel stalks toward her with the push-slide steps that Bebe associates with a good fighter. It makes her nervous. She doesn't know how well Ash is trained. Pete seems to think she'll be alright but Bebe knows there is a difference between a somebody with training and a person who plays the Flex. If they're underestimating it could cost Ash her life and Pete his back-up.

Cel is almost within striking distance and Ash still hasn't moved. Standing easy and open. As if she's waiting for something. This isn't like the fights Bebe is familiar with. The rhythm isn't there and she can't tell how the fight progresses or even if the fighters are well matched. She watches them closely but the tell-tales she knows to look for aren't showing. Without warning Cel lunges forward, fist raising high and jabbing for Ash's throat. Ash floats. It's the only way Bebe can describe the way she seems to move lighter than air, slipping away from the blow and counterpointing to leave her opponent flat on the dirty ground.

"Shall we call it a draw?" Ash asks.

Cel rolls slowly back to his feet before saying contemptuously "nobody makes it playing to draws, do you think this is my first time?"

Ash shifts and Cel is down again. This time he doesn't move. Ash turns away and nods to them.

"Let's go."

"I told you she'd be fine," Pete says as they hurry to catch up with Ash who is already striding down the alley.

"I've never seen anything like that," Bebe says and she doesn't care how her voice sounds awe-struck even to her own ears.

* * *

Even though Pete has a spacer's tan fading from his skin while Ash's own skin is pale she moves like she's more at home on the ship than Pete does which tells Bebe she's either more familiar than her appearance would apply or she's used to adjusting her movement to fit with differing environments at short notice. Bebe assumes her comfortable movement is for the later reason which makes Pete's need for her support more understandable especially when she notices the line of a short stiletto along the seam of Ash's sleeve. It blends so seamlessly with the fabric that Bebe wouldn't have noticed it if the light hadn't hit the fabric just right. After seeing Ash lay out the Flex player Bebe wonders why she bothers to carry a blade when her body is such a deadly weapon. She desperately wants to take time to search Ash in the webs to see if she's listed with any of the private security databases. With her skills it seems like the sort of thing she'd do. But Bebe can't because Pete will notice. Another reason Bebe has never wanted to run with a patcher. Ash twitches her foot toward one of the seats and Bebe sits. Pete is perched on the arm of Ash's chair. The display behind his shoulder is still stuck in triple digits for the count-down to their sling out time. She sets her confounder on the arm of the chair.

"So just how dangerous is this?" Bebe asks after the silence has stretched uncomfortably long.

"It's not, honest!" Pete says nodding emphatically, "they really do back off with the right pressure just sometimes it's gets a little messy."

"A little _messy_?"

"Sometimes there might be some fighting but we have more to worry about from the Confed guys getting pissed about losing their take once we disable an operation center."

"I've never seen anyone move like that," Bebe says nodding at Ash who is sitting cross-legged on the chair. Ash nods in agreement but doesn't provide any explanation of how she can float through a fight so Bebe presses on focusing back on Pete, "and she's your back-up, if those are the kind of skills you need I think it sounds like it could be pretty fuckin' dangerous."

"That's flattering but we 're not all that good," Pete says with a laugh.

"The likelihood of death is pretty low," Ash injects overtop of Pete's joke, "and this, it's been organized for years now, they've had practice."

"Yeah, normally if we brought you in it would be way more gradual but this is kinda special circumstances but I promise we'll get you out in once piece," he says earnestly and the way he shifts makes Bebe think he was going to take her hand but thought better of it.

"And just the three of us can do this? Is the stuff on Grundy, is it really small?"

"We're going to hit it when it's in a down cycle so it'll only have a skeleton staff and not too many slaves to rescue. Really, what we need to do is get Panda and the Duke out of there because we don't know if we've been compromised or what but the Ferret's fall looks really bad."

"I thought you said it wasn't a problem?" Bebe asks slowly wondering if she misunderstand what Pete had told Ash in the pub.

"It shouldn't be, but we don't know for sure. It's too dangerous to leave them there."

"But won't the slavers just keep using it after you've gotten them out?"

Pete's smile is feral, "not if we blow the place."

* * *

The trip from Nazo to Grundy is exactly as long as Bebe predicted which seems to frustrate Pete. It decreases her irritation when Ash finally firmly orders Pete to stop asking if she can just go faster. Ash, at least, seems to have confidence in her ability. After that Pete spends most of his time laying on a crash couch with his head in Ash's lap. Bebe would think he was sleeping except that she can see the dance of lights over his patch. Bebe suspects that he'd also be sharing a sleeping berth with Ash except that the berths are designed for single occupancy only and Bebe knows just how uncomfortable trying to fit two people into one can be. As it is, Pete is always sneaking touches; a hand on Ash's arm, a finger in her belt loop, pressing his hip against hers until Ash returns the touch.

"Is he always like that after you've been apart?" Bebe asks one day when Pete is sleeping curled around Ash on the couch and Ash is skimming through a news feed.

"Only when he's the one who went storming off in the first place," Ash says stroking a strand of hair off Pete's face.

"I didn't, I mean Pete didn't say you were his uh," Bebe trails off not sure exactly what Ash is to Pete.

"He wouldn't, when you do what we do, you have to keep everything close. It's just not safe to be free about who you care about. This isn't a game. "

"I know, but I just thought he'd say something when I was going to meet you and everything."

"We're trusting you now," Ash says softly and Bebe can hear the unsaid _you're lucky we are_.

Bebe ducks her head in silent understanding but asks, "how'd you meet?"

"A friend introduced us because of our compatible skills," Ash says with a smile that lets Bebe know there is more to the story that Ash isn't willing to share with her. The knowledge doesn't sting like she expected.

"Did Pete have to tell you about the Confed too?"

"No, I already had my own experience with them" Ash says tiredly.

* * *

"Just land?" Bebe repeats again.

She knows this is the plan, the plan Pete and Ash have been going over with her for cycles as the _Nightingale_ powers through the parsecs toward Grundy but it still seems too simple. Just land. Right. Pete is strapped in next to her. The lights dancing across his patch flaring intermittently as something happens in the webs. The fingers of his right hand twitch, pulling at the fabric of the dull tan orthoskins, but it's not a conscious reaction. Bebe knows he's focused on easing them past the security and into a docking bay. _Ash trusts him. Ash is good. Ash has done this before. Pete knows what he's doing._ The mantra runs around and around in Bebe's head. A silent reassuring beat that keeps her focused on getting the ship in perfectly. She keeps waiting for a hail or a warning shot but nothing comes and she can't help letting out a long breath once the _Nightingale_ is docked and powered to standby.

"Good job, let's move," Pete says already un-strapping himself.

Ash is waiting for them at the rear hatch. Instead of a hand wand or a plasma blade like Bebe is expecting Ash wears spetsdöds. The barrels run along the length of her index fingers, the pressure sensitive trigger mechanism meaning that she has to have superb control to use them. Spetsdöds are civilian weapons, not good for long distances, but they are rarely used because of the skill needed for them. It is rumored the resistance on Greaves uses them to fill infirmary wards with troops in Spasm lock-ins. Somehow Bebe can't find herself surprised that Ash uses them. Pete has a plasma blade at his waist, not a hand wand like Bebe does, but she hopes he doesn't need to use it. Ash supervised their practice and Bebe knows that Pete's strength doesn't lie with weapons. Against somebody untrained he'll be alright but if it is somebody as good as she is or, worse, as good as Ash, Pete will be in trouble.

"Have you got The Duke?" Ash asks.

Pete taps the edge of his patch, "loud and clear, we'll go on his signal; he says he'll meet us at Panda."

One of the data sticks in his patch sparks orange, "we're on."

Ash leads them out of the hatch, ducking low and moving fast toward the corner where the side door to the bay will be according to the plans Pete had received from The Duke. Ash pauses for a second before signalling for Bebe to take the right side of the door. Just like they have practiced. It feels different now that everything is real. She tightens her grip on her hand wand and nods.

Ashe pushes open the door and Bebe ducks through as she hears the quiet cough of the spetsdöd and the thump of a body hitting the ground behind her. The wall is firm against her back as she checks down the corridor. It is clear. The man lying on the ground doesn't look like a guard. He could be the average customer in any back world rec-chem pub. His averageness makes Bebe uneasy. Pete pops the cover on a nearby maintenance tube and helps Ash drag the man over it.

"He's not going to fit," Bebe whispers feeling almost hysterical as Pete begins pushing the man's body forward in an exact imitation of the slap-stick routines in the vid-comedys.

"He'll fit," Ash says pushing firmly against the man's foot, "just watch for anyone else."

Together they cram the man's body into the tube, Pete giving his legs a final kick to get them far enough in so the cover can be pushed back into place, while Bebe watches for more slavers and silently hopes they won't show.

"It'll do, we've got to _move_ ," Pete gives the tube cover a last firm push as the lights on his patch flared bright, "change of plans we're getting The Duke first."

"What?" Ash asks sharply but doesn't stop following Pete as he hurries down the corridor.

"He says Panda is in with Rawlings so get him first, she'll keep things distracted."

Ash's mouth tightens but she doesn't say anything. Bebe's stomach rolls thinking of what distraction could mean.

* * *

Ash is quick and deadly accurate with spetsdöds which leaves Bebe doing her best to watch out for Pete while Ash disposes of anyone in their way.

"Why bother?" Bebe huffs as she heaves a women into what looks like a supply closet.

"No need to leave them out like a sign," Pete explains, bouncing from foot to foot impatiently, "he should be up the next hall, hurry up."

Bebe quickly tugs the closet door shut and hurries to catch up with Ash and Pete. Getting separated would be a disaster. She doesn't think that Ash would let Pete get too far ahead but she isn't going to risk it. There is trust and then there is blind trust.

* * *

There is a guard stationed at the door. Ash dispatches him quickly. Bebe catches his weight with a grunt so his weight doesn't thump against the door and warn the occupants. Pete removes a comm patch from the man's neck and slips it into a port adapter then into his patch.

Pete opens the door without waiting for Ash to check the room. Ash steps up beside Pete. Bebe tenses, ready to throw herself forward to pull him out of danger, when she sees Ash's hand turn palm up at hip level. The all-clear signal. She slides into the room and lets the door fall shut behind her even though it makes her nervous, she understands why it's better if nobody can accidently see them if they happen past. The room is as impersonal as a rent-pod in a shuttle port.

"Took you long enough," the man leaning against the far wall says. He's tall and thin with a prominent nose and a patch decorated with what Bebe recognizes as an Old Earth shark.

Pete laughs and bounces forward. Bebe guesses that he must be The Duke. There is a travel case by his feet which he slips onto one shoulder, before he steps forward and into Pete's tight embrace. Pete says something too quietly for her to catch but it makes The Duke chuckle softly. He shifts and presses his mouth against Pete's, lips brushing over his mouth in a way that's too intimate to just be friendly. Bebe looks away feeling as though she's seeing something she shouldn't have.

"Panda?" Ash asks briskly ignoring the way The Duke is still holding Pete in a loose embrace.

"Two floors up in the next wing, she's with Rawlings," the Duke replies automatically as he disentangles himself from Pete. Pete glances over at Bebe as if challenging her to say anything but she just smiles unsure of how else to tell him that she isn't bothered. The Duke pauses for a second as he adjusts the strap of his travel case to check his wrist unit saying in the same flat voice, "Bart Black-Art has been with them for almost an hour now."

"Fuck," Ash says slapping a new clip into her left spetsdöd, "he was supposed to be sopping it up on Vishnu."

"Panda can handle herself," The Duke says firmly but Bebe sees how he flinches when Ash snaps that Black-Art didn't get his reputation from a little slap and tickle. _You know that_ is left unsaid but the way it's implied is so heavy that Bebe can hear it even though she knows nothing about the past that obviously connects the three of them to Black-Art. Ash is already easing the door open and checking the corridor so she doesn't see the way Pete touches The Duke's shoulder; quick and light but obviously reassuring going by how the Duke touches the same spot. He also takes the hand wand Pete offers; exchanging the wand for a data stick which Pete slips into his patch immediately. The Duke checks it with an easy efficiency that makes Bebe relax. Having another person comfortable with weapons in the group makes her feel safer even though she knows it's mostly a false sense of security.

"Ready," he and Pete say at the same time when Ash looks at them.

* * *

They put Pete in the middle with Bebe taking the rear. Ash keeps the Duke to her left so he can direct them through the twisting corridors. The lighting has the green-blue cast to it that Bebe always associates with the maintance corridors in the wheel-worlds.

"There aren't enough guards," Pete hisses as they round yet another corner without issue to come to a halt at a thick dencris door that leads up to the next floor.

"It's fine," The Duke says as he slips a data stick into his patch making the lights on it flicker, "They're shifted through the chain, it's the down time now."

"But what about the slaves?" Bebe asks surprise making her voice higher than she intended, the other three all frown so Bebe doesn't ask again but she lets her fingers slip into the Laner short hand that demands an answer.

"The last batch was shipped out cycles ago and no new ships have come in yet," The Duke says quietly as his fingers awkwardly form the sign for "more later". Bebe wants to demand details but she knows it would only disrupt their objective and the place is making her neck prickle with tension so she nods shortly. They still have to get Panda.

"Trouble?" Ash asks peering through the dencris. It's cloudy in the way that says poorly done rather than intentional artistry. The Duke makes a negative noise as a yellow light flares on his patch. On the other side they can just see a shadow on the stairs, a sign somebody is coming.

"Hurry up," Ash hisses just as the lock light on the door turns green, "ready."

Ash goes in low, right hand leading and the spetsdöds cough twice. They hurry after her. The guard is slumping against the wall and as they come closer Bebe sees the way the muscles in his neck are stiff from the spasm-loads the darts carried.

"Can we stash him somewhere close?" Ash asks prodding the guard with the toe of her boot.

The Duke's eye closes for a second before he says, "air vent 3 meters left but the piping isn't going to support him that long."

Ash shrugs, "we don't need much time."

Without being told Pete grabs the guard under his left shoulder so he and Ash can drag him toward(s?) the vent. The Duke leads them while Bebe watches their back. It feels smoother than Bebe expects - as if this is something that's been done many times before and they know exactly how to fit her into their unit. She wonders if Panda used to fill the spot she occupies.

* * *

The closer they get to the wing the more guards there are and the Duke has proved his ability with the hand wand twice when she and Ash have been too out numbered. Her stomach is tight with nerves as the Duke hands off primary control of the security system to Pete so that he can concentrate on the physical threats.

“If anything goes wrong, you help him protect Pete and get out,” Ash orders as The Duke and Pete are switching off primary control. The Duke’s patch is gradually dimming while Pete’s flares brighter.

“What about you?” Bebe asks because she knows it’s better to have back-up.

Ash smiles in a way that Bebe thinks is supposed to be reassuring but reminds her of the fake smiles on the server droids, “I’ll get myself out.”

“Let’s move,” the Duke says. The shark stands out sharply now that his patch has turned to a deadened dull grey.

Ash nods and leads them forward.

Pete's patch is a steady array of blinking lights and he complains under his breath about the set up the Duke has left him to work with. The Duke shrugs. The way they trade back and forth, half absent minded as they're focusing on the goal ahead, makes Bebe feel like it's an old familiar argument with them. She still thinks it's weird that they'd indulge in it when they're almost to the heart of the compound where Panda is supposed to be in danger if Ash's worry over Black-Art is to be trusted.

“Left, and then the third door on the right, security shows four guards outside the door” Pete says.

“We’ll cover,” the Duke says as he gently pushes Pete back against the wall.

“On three,”

Bebe’s hands feel slippery and her heart is beating in her throat but she nods. Ash holds up her hand, three fingers outstretched. Bebe takes a deep breath and forces herself to relax. Failure isn’t an option for them and she needs her aim to be true. Ash hold one finger down. The Duke clasps Pete’s shoulder briefly and Pete nods. Ash puts her last finger down.

Ash throws herself around the corner, and the spetsdöds cough twice. Bebe has barely rounded the corner when Ash’s fingers are already touching the spetsdöds' trigger points again. The guards drop with thumps to the floor. Pete bursts around the corner without prompting. Ash is slapping a new magazine into her left spetsdöd as The Duke pushes up the power setting on his hand wand. He looks at Ash and at her nod fires straight at the door.

Dencris shatters as the blast hits it, tumbling to the floor in tiny jagged pieces and exploding outward to hit the arm Bebe reflexively flung across her eyes. Dencris is sharp and she feels a piece slice through her orthoskins and stick in the meat of her forearm. There's no time to get the piece out now not when she can hear shouting and the sizzle of hand wands. Pete is pressed against the wall, the lights of his patch flaring like tiny suns as he works with the compound's systems. His pupil is a pinprick. A burst from a hand wand splashes against the door frame making it smoke.

"Are you okay here?" Bebe asks even as she readies herself to go through the door and into the fight.

"Go," Pete orders.

Bebe ducks low to the left as she moves through the door, scanning the room for targets. There are more guards than she expected. Their bodies are sprawled over the floor and she has to hop over a man with his face burned off by a wand blast. His blood has spread around him and her foot slips in it as she moves. The room is long with chairs and tables scattered about making it appear narrow. Bebe ducks behind the nearest chair. Any cover is better than nothing.

Bebe peers around the chair, hand wand ready, and surveys the room. She doesn’t know what Panda looks like and is nervous about accidently hitting her. Damaging the person they’re supposed to be rescuing would be the last thing to make Pete confident enough in her to do the run he promised. The fight is mostly contained at the other end of the room so she has a good vantage point to cover them.

She flips the hand wand to the point fire she's comfortable with for long-range and squeezes the trigger. It hits the guard who had been crawling toward The Duke. He and Ash are obviously trying to get to the couple who are grappling on the raised area at the end of the room. Bebe figures the woman, who looks like she's wearing little beside body paint and decorative slippers, is probably Panda if she understood what Pete told Ash. The Duke uses the end up his hand wand as a bludgeon when anyone gets too close to him but he's doing his best to keep any fighting distant. Ash, on the other hand, seems to be dancing through the guards. Her body never stopping yet Bebe can't figure out her pattern no matter how much she watches. Ash seems to leave negative space that the guards simply fall into.

The air smells hot and metallic from the hand wand fire and the blood on the floor. The Duke's patch flashes green once and then Pete is easing through the blown door and hurrying toward them. The painted woman is sitting astride the man in the suit, holding him immobile in a way that Bebe recognizes from the Confed broadcasts that Pete is always watching. The man is wheezing but laying still as if he's too afraid to move.

"We're taking him with us," the woman says in a husky voice. She has finger-print smears of body paint around her neck.

"I've got money, just let me go," the man interrupts half wheedling half demanding, "we'll forget the whole thing, you can leave."

"Rawlings, she says you come," The Duke says as he kneels beside the man and passes the woman a zip restraint which she puts on with a quick competence that brings Bebe unpleasant memories of port police taking in her fellow laners.

"Traitor, I knew you weren't right, I knew it, you fucking traitor," he snarls.

"If you weren't running slaves this wouldn't have happened," The Duke reproves.

Rawlings' eyes roll wildly in his head until he sees Pete, "she's a whore, I can make you a rich man, wouldn't you want to be a rich man? They can't promise you that."

"Shut up," The Duke orders as he slaps a restraint tape over Rawlings' mouth. Pete's eye is unfocused as the patterns shift on his patch.

Panda jabs her prisoner's neck and orders him to his feet. He curls into himself and doesn't get up. Panda looks at The Duke who shrugs. She uncurls one of Rawlings' fingers and presses it backward until Bebe hears the bone snap. Rawlings screams through the tape.

"I can keep going or you can get up," Panda says softly.

Rawlings doesn't move. Panda uncurls another finger and breaks it. The snap seems to echo under the sound of his muffled scream. When Panda orders him up, he scrambles awkwardly to his feet.

"Panda, are we good?" Ash says her gaze sweeping around the room as if she thinks that more guards are coming. They probably are.

"We have to get Shar."

"Who?"

"The girl he gave to Bart to sweeten their new venture," Panda says giving Rawlings a vicious jab.

"Better make it quick," Ash says even as she tosses Panda a box that Bebe knows contains a pair of spetsdöds.

Panda strips the jacket off a guard before she opens the box. If Bebe hasn't seen Ash she would have called the way Panda quickly settles them onto her hands and slaps in magazines, natural ease.

* * *

Panda leads them through a maze of corridors with the certainty that comes from long familiarity. The Duke herds Rawlings with sharp jabs of his hand wand and the threat to turn him over to Panda if he doesn't behave. When they reach the door, The Duke presses his hand against the lock plate and it opens soundlessly. Panda slips through as soon as the door is halfway through. The spetsdöds cough and then there is the thump of a body hitting the floor.

Pete and The Duke stay to guard the door but Bebe slips into the room behind Ash. The smell of blood is so overpowering she can almost taste it; thick and coppery on her tongue. There is a thin man crumpled by the bed. Bebe thinks he is dead at first but his chest rises slowly. A girl laying on the bed, red sheets partially covering her but they look wrong. Bebe steps closer and wants to gag. The sheets are heavy wet with blood and the way they cling to the girl makes it obvious pieces of her body aren't intact. Her face is white, eyes white-rimmed in fear. Panda kneels beside her, careful not to jostle her ruined body. She says something too low for Bebe to hear and the girl's mouth opens soundlessly. She has no tongue. Panda strokes a hand over her bloody scalp.

"It's over, he's never going to hurt anyone again," Panda says.

Ash touches Bebe's arm and she jumps.

"You should get out of here," Ash says softly.

"But," Bebe starts and forces herself to lower her voice, "but she needs help. She needs a medic."

"We'll take care of her," Ash says.

"I can help, you'll need more hands," Bebe insists stung that they think she can't handle the brutality inflicted on the girl.

"She's too injured to move and we can't stay here," Ash says softly.

"You can't leave her," Bebe whispers sharply. She can hear Panda crooning to the girl.

"We won't," Ash says and nods.

Bebe looks toward the bed just in time to see Panda press the barrel of her spetsdöd to the girl's temple. The girl looks so trusting.

"Everything will be fine," Panda sooths as her finger flicks the barrel's trigger point. The girl shudders. The spetsdöd coughs again. Bebe turns away fighting against her stomach. She loses, falling to her knees and vomiting. Her hand is in a bloody boot print. It's the girl's blood. She's sure of it. She heaves again.

"We're out of time," The Duke calls into the room.

Ash swears and goes to help Panda sling the unconscious man, who Bebe assumes must be Bart, between them. Ash glares at her until she realizes she has to trigger the door. The two women drag Bart out of the doorway. Panda has the girl's blood smeared over her hands and legs.

"He has to be the last one, my ship's not rated for more people," Bebe says shakily. Her mouth tastes horrible.

* * *

Pete is patched into her ship so Bebe can tell him when to begin the power sequence so that when they arrive they can sling out immediately. The Duke, Ash, and Panda stow their prisoners in storage compartments. They aren't really meant for it but Panda says they'll do in a pinch. Bebe doesn't want to know how she knows that.

Bebe takes the pilot's chair and waits for Pete to strap himself in before she starts the last phase of sling out. It's going to be rough with no Control to watch the sling readings just her and Pete doing it cold.

"Hang on," she warns into the comm and punches the first ignition sequence.

 _Nightingale_ surges forward, controls vibrating in her hands as she feels Pete trigging the sling through the compound's patcher web. The ship rocks, sizzling with the sling charge until Bebe can almost feel her teeth on edge. The over-powered release pushes her back in her chair as she fights to get control of the ship. The ship rocks again and she swears checking read outs. Did a release mis-trigger? She scans the display looking for what could have caused the unexpected roughness.

Pete interrupts her scanning, “it’s fine, that was the compound."

"What?"

"The shockwave from blowing the compound caught us. I thought I'd given you enough sling to miss it," Pete says sounding contrite.

"When did you have time to set that up?" Bebe asks although she doesn't expect to get an answer.

Pete laughs, "they had spare time so they rigged it."

Bebe checks the viewer and sees the compound smoking. A large section of it is blown clean away exposing the insides to the elements.

"Where to?" Bebe asks.

"Go to Dalk for now."

"It's a hub-world won't the Confed be looking for you not to mention all the buddies of those two you've kidnapped?"

Pete shrugs, "I know a guy."

Bebe sighs but sets the course anyway. She can almost feel Pete relax once the course is confirmed. She flips the crash restraints off so that the rest of her passengers can move around. She figures Ash should be able to show them around if necessary. Bebe hopes The Duke and Panda will be like Pete and comfortable with ship travel.

“Thank-you,” Pete says finally breaking the silence.

“You still owe me a run,” Bebe points out warily.

“I know but still thank-you. You didn’t have to do this,” Pete rushes on uncomfortably when she doesn’t say anything, “I mean I got you off Tarlis, you could’ve spaced me or just left me on Nazo or whatever, you didn’t have to do _this_.”

“You said there were slaves and your friends were in danger. I couldn’t say no to that.”

“A lot of people could,” Pete says softly bitterness so obvious that Bebe wonders if it was a real friend who turned him down.

“I didn’t know I was going to be kidnapping people.”

“That, uh, wasn’t suppose to happen.”

Bebe makes a please explain gesture.

“Panda couldn’t get much info to The Duke but if he thinks she was right to take them then I trust them. Panda was close to Rawlings so she knows what he was saying. It’s why she went doxy for this because of the access.”

“I still can’t believe she’d do that.”

“She’s very brave to do it,” Pete says firmly as if he thinks Bebe is going to be horrible to Panda.

“I couldn’t.” Bebe offers hoping to reassure him.

“I… if you want, you should talk to her about it. She helped train some of our newer guys.”

Bebe pauses, “that sounds a lot more organized than I imagined.”

Pete laughs, “me too.”

Bebe checks their time against the distance from Grundy and flips on the autopilot. Her arm throbs and she suddenly aware of how sore she is.

Pete bounces up from his chair, obviously on another burst of energy, "come on, you should meet Panda and The Duke for real and we need to get that dencris out of your arm.

Pete holds out his hand, "come on, you want to know our plans don't you?"

"And you have to answer my questions," she warns as she takes his outstretched hand.

As soon as they enter the galley Panda disentangles herself from The Duke. She’s wearing a pair of The Duke’s orthoskins and her hair has been hastily chopped so it is chin-length. She bounces over to lay a smacking kiss on Pete’s check.

“You were just in time,” she says with a smile.

Pete grins wide and pleased, “Bebe, meet Alicia.”

“Hi, um, you look different.”

Alicia shrugs, “I can’t stand keeping in costume any longer. You don’t have any dye on board do you? Ash couldn’t find any.”

Bebe shakes her head, “sorry.”

Alicia shrugs, “I can wait till Dalk.”

“How did you know?”

“Mikey told us,” Alicia says. Across the room The Duke taps one finger against his patch and gives a small wave.

Bebe waves back and immediately wishes she hadn’t when her arm twinges.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Ash orders and Bebe is happy to obey.

“That needs to be looked after,” Alicia says as she kneels next to Bebe to look at her arm.

“I have, oh, you found it” Bebe says when she sees Mikey handing her med kit to Alicia.

She hisses when Alicia sprays on a disinfectant before she starts to gently remove the piece of dencris from Bebe’s arm. Bebe turns her head away.

Pete plops onto the floor and smiles up at her, “wanna know what you’re gotten yourself into?”

“Are you going to tell me or make me wait again?” Bebe asks trying unsuccessfully to ignore the burn of more disinfectant.

“I’ll tell you, if you stop moving,” Pete says at the same time Alicia tells her to hold still.

“Alright,” Bebe says, “tell me about freeing slaves.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Detailed Warning:** Violence, discussion of slavery. There is implied rape and an undercover character is implied to have had sex to further their cover. There is an on-screen mercy killing and graphic descriptions of torture.
> 
> Written for Band Girls Bang. dr_jasley listened to me plan and gave it a good beta. blindinglights was my second reader and gave it a wonderful polish beta. I owe them both many thanks. Any mistakes are mine.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Illustrating "Blueshift" by delphinapterus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/292008) by [omens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omens/pseuds/omens)




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